Death of a Man
by Cat Soup
Summary: The contemplation of a man who had done more in his death than in his living. Auron ponders his fate while awaiting to arrive at Sin in the airship. [ Auron POV ][ Spoils ]
1. Afterlife

  
  
**This is basically Auron's train of thought  
after you pass Yunalesca and get the air  
ship. Spoilers, read after you get airship  
or at your own risk.  
  
It may seemed disorganized at first, but  
it's meant to be that way. It's his thinkin'  
and stuffs.  
  
**______________________________________________  
  
Everybody else have found themselves huddled about that sphere before Cid, mapping out our next destination. I myself have found refuge on my own, in the empty corridor before the control room. I'm glad all the others have stayed in the main chamber, and even Kimarhi who had decided not to waits in the hallway to my left. Only occasionally am I bothered by the flaxen tressed blitzer.. And sometimes, he would speak with me.. Only to be greeted by my monotonous reply.  
  
"_I must admit.. I was worried at first.. But you've done well_."  
  
The only words I could manage, and even then my lengthy pauses were due to my thoughts.. Interrupting me. Luckily, I had the ability to retain my composition. Even if he were to prod me further, he would arise no other comments.. I would speak no more than that; in fear, yes fear, that I would spill out my thoughts.. And he knew me too well already.  
**  
**I reclined my back against the corridor.. One boot flat against the surface, so the sole was parallel to the wall itself. I was bound to think for a lengthy amount of time, so I might as well have made myself comfortable. All my thoughts.. They were driven back to Zanarkand.. Both the dream, and the reality.  
  
I sighed as my eyes fluttered shut.. Atleast my good one did. Before long, I felt the rim off my jug against my lips, rough against my skin. My tongue recoiled at the distaste of the liquid when chilled, but I didn't bother to pay much attention to it.. And that is when I dove into my subconscious.  
  
I remember that look on Tidus's face when he came to Zanarkand. Our weapons set aside, and he went off on his own while we all sat about the dying fire.. He was climbing up the pile of rubble and ruins that remained a testament to the former glory of the machina great; Zanarkand. The way he stared out into the saffron hued abyss and pyreflies.. I knew that look. It was the look of an impending end. Once again, my resolve wavered.. I thought I had overcome my emotions, second time around.**  
**  
It was then I feigned a smile, moistening my lips once again with the alcoholic beverage.  
  
The fiends and the trek onwards towards the stadium was the easiest part of the journey through the ruined city.. For the ordeal was a mental trial for myself, since my physical self had long ago died by the hands of the 'Savior of Spira' which dwelt in that very stadium.  
  
Once again.. My thoughts had been interrupted by the restless boy, the metallic sound of the doors parting as he entered my section of the airship. I knew it was him, for I peeked my good eye open slightly. Staring him down through the tainted obsidian hues my lenses cast upon him.. It seemed as if I locked him there, against his will, as my eye drove into his own cerulean gaze. It was then he turned and left in the direction of the Ronso, without a word.  
  
His gaze said enough. It was soft, and sad.. Sympathy.. After all these years, did the boy pity me? Did he feel sorry for my anguish, for my death..? Or was he saddened by the fact I was meant to leave him from the beginning..? Or was it the impact my years retaining the patriarchal role of his family in his father's absence?  
  
I remember his mother from back then.. I remember lack of passion she had for life. It was as if she were willing to throw it away.. And that angered me at times. I had mine taken, and she, she was going to give it up.. Though.. I knew this was only a side effect of Jecht's death. He told me stories of a vibrant woman, alive, lovely. She was reduced to nothing because **I** couldn't save Jecht.. **I** couldn't help him..  
  
And now.. She's dead.. And her son, the son I raised for ten years of my death, pitied me.  
  
That was the last thing I wanted. After all these years of being honored as a legendary guardian, despite the fact it was all false.. A statement produced by the maesters of Yevon to promote the faith within the people.. I had grown accustomed for people looking to me as a pillar, expecting me to be strong. Never, in so many years, have I seen somebody look upon me with such profound sorrow. Of course, people in the dream of Zanarkand, or people who looked upon my face felt a superficial sadness for me.. But nothing so deep. The last who had given me such a look was Kimarhi, who had fulfilled Braska's wishes to take Yuna off to Besaid.  
  
I remember.. Crawling up to the Ronso's feet, bloody, scarred.. Forcing myself to weather the unforgiving slope of Mount Gagazet. He didn't make it hard for me, we were both of little words.. Straight to the point.. I pleeded for him to take Yuna to Besaid, for Braska.  
  
The cobalt furred creature agreed, and quickly escaped my crimson tainted gaze.. He just left me there. I had requested for Yuna's sake, not my own.. So I am not bitter towards the creature.. Yet, now that I wonder.. Did he think I was dying.. Or already dead? An unsent's last plee before I was doomed to become a fiend? Heh.. I didn't even know myself.  
  
In the future, Yuna's sphere would assure me Kimarhi was the one to personally deliver the message. "_It is the wish of a man facing death_." As Kimarhi had bluntly put to the girl.. I expected she believed it was her father, and not I who had urged Kimarhi to fulfull my plee. It was his wish, anyways. I was simply the messanger.   
  
Yes, I was simply the messanger.. And after I had delivered.. I felt.. At ease; as my face fell into the snow and icy slush, and slowly.. The cold numbed my pain away. I felt as if I fulfilled my last promise, my final obligation to Braska.. It was then I felt I could slumber in peace.. But I couldn't. Something bound me to the world.  
  
Braska. His daughter, Yuna.. An orphan. Victim to Sin in it's wrath and defeat, both her parents had died. How he fought against all odds, died for people who outcasted him.. And most of all.. How I missed him.  
  
Jecht. That family he always talked about, the son.. His only dream, back in Zanarkand. And most of all, the fact I needed to free him. Free him from the hellish existance that Yunalesca damned him to as a fayth. His fate, to defeat Sin, to kill Braska, and to inflict Yu Yevon's murderous rage upon Spira until another would take his place.  
  
I had tried to avenge them.. I.. I really had.. But after my confrontation with Yunalesca, I needed to find another way.. Another way to break the spiral, to avenge the deaths.. No, murders of my dearest friends.  
  
I felt myself sink down, into a seated position.. My head reclining back against the cold metal of the wall. My jug had been long since pulled from my lips, but when I lifted it again, it was half empty. Half_ empty_.  
  
My thoughts had digressed.. And so.. I traced back to Zanarkand.. Was I really digressing, knocked off topic? Or did I fear confronting my last living memories?  
I had completely skipped my trek within the stadium.. And now.. I must confront it.  
  
  
It was getting late.. And so.. I had a whole night ahead of me to think..  
To ponder the meaningless existance of a dead man.  
______________________________________________  
  
I'm gonna keep this to a small amount of Chapters. It was meant to be a one shot,  
but it covers alot of thoughts. :B Stay tuned!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Death

  
  
**This is basically Auron's train of thought  
after you pass Yunalesca and get the air  
ship. Spoilers, read after you get airship  
or at your own risk.  
  
It may seemed disorganized at first, but  
it's meant to be that way. It's his thinkin'  
and stuffs.  
  
**______________________________________________  
  
I took another drink, gulping this time.. Swinging the jug down from my lips.. I slipped my free arm from the confines of my coat; where it was usually in that sling fashion and wiped my lips with the back of my hand.. I was getting progressively weary, and my reactions sluggish, as I had downed much of such a massive container.  
  
And once again I slipped away into my past.  
  
Where was I..? Ah, yes..  
  
I remember the first time I stood outside the stadium. I felt the urge to turn back, to keep Braska and Jecht from continuing. I knew the impending doom, the fate my friend faced. Little did I know, that a guardian must sacrifice their own life, too. And now, I regret having not taken Jecht's place.. I found a way to his Zanarkand. If I had died.. If I had became the fayth, maybe he could've gone home.. Instead, he died. For my own selfish believes that I could actually make a difference.  
  
I was young. It was a fault of my youth..  
Atleast.. That's what I keep telling myself.  
  
When I stood outside on my second pilgrimage, my resolve faded once again.. My composition threatened to falter under the circumstances. Up until that point, I had so solemnly pressed on Yuna's pilgrimage under all circumstances. I knew what would become of her, if she chose to allow it. I knew that she respects my choices, but in the end if she had chosen to die for the faith of Yevon, then I could not have stopped her.. I could not have swayed her.. If that were to happen, I could only watch as Braska's flesh and blood was once again used as a false beacon of hope. A sacrificial child to quell the pain and suffering of Spira and it's peoples.  
  
When we entered.. I was haunted by the familiar atmosphere.. Along with the fact that more than what I wanted the group to know about me was revealed to them against my own will. The pyreflies which displayed my past to them, forcing me to recall the pain of my last fleeting moments of youth.. My last moments of life.  
  
I'm nothing but a shadow of the man I was before. I was proud back then. I was.. I was handsome. Now look at me..  
  
Idly, I shifted in my seated position as I placed the jug to my side. My eyelid progressively drooping against my will to stay awake. I dug into the recess of my vestment, deep into my pocketed coat to withdraw a simple gem. One of the few items Rikku usually equipped, but that I had never gotten around to giving her after recovering it from a fiend.  
  
In it, I saw myself. Gem in my bare hand, I raised my gloved palm to unlatch the leather straps of my collar, yanking it down so that it rested on my clavicle. The multitude of cuts and lateral sides of the gem reflected my visage. Unshaven, scarred, only one good eye.. The deep frownlines which creased my skin. I was nothing like that in my youth. Now, I had become a bitter old man.. Living through his death within a false family; composed of the children of my two dead best friends and their traveling troop.  
  
Ah.. Back to Zanarkand.. Near the dome..  
Even in my death, my second pilgrimage.. I couldn't escape the images of my past.  
  
I remember the events that plagued my life as a youth, and came back in scenes to torture me in my death.. The reenactments of my trek through the Zanarkand dome, as portrayed by pyreflies.  
  
Those transparent scenes displayed before the group and myself.. Scenes of us three, Braska, Jecht and I, running through the dead and desolate pathways towards the final Cloister of Trials. How strong willed, how hopeful I was. I _believed_ I could make a difference.  
  
It didn't take long before Yuna gained entry to the fayth. I surpressed my trembling, because I knew what the other's didn't.. What Yuna was soon to announce.. The fayth was nothing more than the empty, soulless remains of Lord Zaon's fayth. Nothing more than an extravagant rock.  
  
We.. Were almost there..  
  
About now, my eyes had drooped completely shut.. My jug, if not empty, was very well near empty.. No longer could I fend off the sleep that surreptitiously drug me into my subconscious.. My thoughts.. To be carried on in my nightmares.  
  
Even in my sleep I couldn't escape..  
  
"_Sir Auron, you knew this would happen, didn't you?_"  
  
Some question to that effect, and I only nodded. Eventually, we were to find the answer to this empty fayth.. How to attain the final summoning; I however, already knew. Guided by the long unsent ghost of the old man, we were drawn towards the extravagant chambers which Lady Yunalesca was soon to 'grace' us with her presence.  
  
She spoke the words I dreaded to hear; ever since they first fell upon me, those ten long years ago.. That a guardian must be sacrificed to become the fayth of the final summoning.. That not only Braska would die, but either myself, or Jecht. I had to eventually accept their deaths, their vain sacrifices.. The loss of Braska and Jecht.. Though, had Jecht not been there.. Would I have volunteered myself for Braska? Despite my lack of willingness? .. And after searching deep into my soul, my beliefs, my heart.. No. If I were the **only** guardian, then Braska would be unable to summon the final aeon without my part.  
  
I know he lived to die for Spira.. And I lived to die for him.. Though never, never if it were in my own hands, would I have let him sacrifice himself. It may seem selfish, and maybe it is, but despite his own desire to replenish Spira's hope; the temporary life of a man like Braska was worth more than a few year's relief from a eternal demon like Sin.  
  
Would Yuna feel the same as I?  
  
It was then.. That point where everybody had just heard Yunalesca explain the sacrifices necessary. Everybody was in shock, and though I hate to admit.. I was worried. Was Yuna so blindly devoted to Spira that she would knowingly give her life for false hope without knowing it? Would the others stop her? Obviously, many would sacrifice themselves and become the aeon.. Though would Yuna realize the fault of Yevon's teachings, unlike her father did?  
  
It was then, that to the horror of my one good eye, I viewed the reenactment of my youth. How Jecht had boldly accepted the role of the fayth.. And how I, I protested in my vain vision of hope.. That he could go back to his Zanarkand.. That it shouldn't end this way..  
  
My hope sickened me.  
  
And for the eyes of my companions, Braska and Jecht disappeared up the stairway.. And I.. I collapsed, grief stricken, in tears. My first reaction, an impulse which swept my body was to draw that massive blade of mine, and thrash at the image of myself; which soon dissipated into pyreflies.  
  
As we ascended up the staircase, the next moments were a blurr. My thoughts too overwhemled with emotions to be clearly recalled; with the exception of the thoughts of my past which constantly plagued my life.   
  
Yunalesca..  
  
I closed my mind off once I saw that vixen again; ignoring my surroundings to drown out the overwhelming pain which threatened to pull me into it's grasp. It was then, my russet eye shot open, to catch a glimpse of the youthful me.. A foolish man going up against a beacon of hope.  
  
"_Where is the sense in all this? Braska believed in Yevon's teachings and died for them! Jecht believed in Braska and gave his life for him!_"  
  
My heart must've frozen at that moment, if it still really beat. Yunalesca made her reply, calm and cool as ever.. But I.. No, my foolish image.. The reflection of my past self.. He.. He charged her in that blind rage I knew all too well.  
  
..And was struck back, flung lifelessly across the floor.. I lived long enough to regret my actions before I hit the ground..   
  
Did they know now? Did they know now the truth behind me? That I was only a shadow of a hopeful man, out to get my revenge for what Yevon has done for me? That my selfish wishes, my need to justify my death is what keeps me an unsent?  
  
No.  
  
That's not really me.  
  
Is it?  
  
"_Yeehaw! Here we go!"  
  
_That raspy voice pierced through the nightmares and thoughts which plauged my subconscious. Cid had said that plenty of times, but now.. I knew it was different. We..   
  
Were going to face Sin.. It's almost over.. Jecht, I'm coming for you.. Your freedom.. My release, oh how I await it. I sluggishly lifted myself back against the wall; my head beating with a headache.. It was either my tired state, or the alcohol.. Either way, I'd need to recover soon enough, Sin was iminent.  
  
I lifted my palm to brush back a few unruly wisps of sterling hue.. My face was wet.. I must've broken into a sweat from my dream.  
  
No.. I was crying.  
  
  
- - -  
  
**Fin  
**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
